Woah I am back with a new story o.o

and this is angsty o.o really angsty

This is a Demyx-centric fic where i basically write off everything that hurts me. most of the things in this fic are things i have felt/been through.
Demyx lives a lonely life as a 17-year old teen in a cold country where everything has to be "just enough". Not Good but a little more than just enough. And he doesn't really fit in there. He lives there, he go to school and he try to work his life.

There is a few pairings in this fic but no major ones.. mostly small side pairings that are mentioned, but yaoi and het. I'm not gonna say that all the pairings are my favourite ones, they are manily paiirings that fitted into the cast. Since everyone in this fic are based on people I have known or that i know.

Disclaimer: I do not own the KH or FF-cast, they are properties of squeenix. I mainly use them for my sick mind.

This work is un edited, but it will be updated and edited soon.

Enjoy

Chapter 1 I know you look in the mirror and hate what you see.

I know you look in the mirror and hate what you see. Every time. And I know you hardly recognize yourself anymore, for any apparent reason. But Demyx, you got to stop this. You got to buck up. No one likes it when you're this sad. The only thing they'll get is annoyed with you because you're so depressed you don't understand their words. They prefer you in your usual cheery way, and, to be frank; you do too. You hate to be sad. Or, not to be sad; not sadness itself. But the way it hurt.

It is you in that mirror. I promise. Look again and you'll see it.

"If that is me, I feel sorry for everyone who has to see me. Be near me." Hush.

You are disgusting. Look at yourself in the mirror. As you stand there to get into the shower the mirror on the wall mock you. Your reflection stares back at you and you want to get dressed again. Hide it all.

It's like voices in your head, whispering constant words about how disgusting you are. I know what it feels like babe.

The way you feel alone. The loneliness that is killing you. Your attitude is just a mask. And a skilled such, since you've worn it for years now. People hate it when it cracks up. Because you're supposed to be the strong one; you're the one that have to make everyone cheer up. The one that doesn't cry. (But to me, you were always the one with the wettest tears and the brightest smile.) You always hide behind that smile, to make sure no one sees that you're not as happy as you and every one else likes to believe.

It is easier that way. It hurts less.

I know you hate to cry. It doesn't help anymore. It doesn't relieve anything. Maybe because you're not really allowed to let it all out. The only thing it leaves you is that you're uglier than before, face all red and swollen, gasping for air, set on not letting out as much as a sound.

They call you depressed Demyx; say that you need professional help. You just laugh at such nonsense, though deep down you know they're probably right. And to be honest; if you knew it would help, you wouldn't mind getting it. For once it would feel good to just let it all out. But you've tried it, and every time, once you were starting to really start to tell things, let it all out, they say that the time is up, set a new time, thank you and goodbye, and shove you out of the room.

You are so sick of being alone. The worst thing you know is to go to sleep, to curl down beneath the cold sheets, alone, and know it will stay like that for a long time. When even the one person you could at least consider maybe having a relationship with tells you right in your face you're ugly, you tend to loose hope. And you already knew you were; no need for him to shove it in your face. Even if it was just a joke, he probably never could've guessed how much it really hurt you. What the words did to you.

Sometimes you try to write, to create a dream world, somewhere where everything goes like you want it to go. But you want to write about love. They always say you should write what you know. The problem is that you don't know love. This is what you know. Loneliness, harsh words, an ugly face staring back at you from the mirror. But you're sick of it. That much you know, though you don't know what you should do about it. You're too shy to dare to say anything. And saying such a thing only feels stupid. Besides; who would listen?

It is so obvious that you're craving for attention that it is painful to watch, and you know it. But what can you do? You only want them to notice. But then again, when they notice, you don't want them there. You turn off because you don't want to make it that obvious. (It already is that obvious, Love.) Watch from a distance, it's what you always do. It's what you're good at. Leave them alone, they don't want you there. Do they even try to listen when you talk to them? No… I didn't think so.

Just look at yourself. You're a big contradiction. A walking contradiction. You don't even know what you want.

"Yes… I do… I want for someone… anyone… to care. To be there… When I'm sad… Or just hug me." Hush. Don't speak, Babe. No one wants to hear it. When you try to say something they only argue with you, say that you're either wrong or that it's just to talk to them. They're not Axel, but they're still there. They say that they want to hear it, they don't want you to be sad, but we both know it isn't true. It bothers them to see you down, and you don't want to do that, now, do you?

Even if they are there, you don't want to say something. You want them to notice without you asking. That it doesn't always have to be you who ask.

"I… want someone to… l-love me… I hate being alone." Shush. I know. But don't say it, because no one is interested in listening. They don't want to hear it. Don't bother them. They haven't asked for your opinion.

"D-don't leave me here…" Shut up, Demyx! I told you to be quiet. Save it. No one wants to hear it. Just stay there in the corner with your notebook and be quiet, like a nice boy. Write it off. It's just painful to watch, you're so pathetic. You disgust me. And yourself. Stay out of their conversations, you have nothing to add. Not anything that's worth listening to anyway. When ever you try to say something, they just give you weird looks. They're too deep for you. Their conversations is about subjects you don't know, don't understand. Leave it.

Watch the snow instead, Love. It's beautiful where it falls.

"The trees looks cold… I don't like snow… it makes my shoes cold and wet." Shhh, I know. But it doesn't matter. I know you're alone. I feel it too. But they don't want to hear it. It doesn't matter to them, and why should it? You're not the only one feeling like this; therefore no one wants to hear it. You're just one of many out there. What ever made you think that you were special? Curl up in your corner with your book or whatever it is you do.

"I just… want to get it out… Make it stop hurting…" Haven't you heard a word I've said?

"Yes, but- -" No buts. It doesn't matter. How can someone love you when you don't even love yourself? Just listen to me, Demyx… We both know I'm right. Who could ever love someone like you?

"I… You're right…" Shhh, I know I am. Just sleep babe. It'll go away tomorrow. It'll feel better after you've gotten some sleep. Like I always tell you; it will be good again once you've rested. You're only tired. That's why the mask is crumbling. Tomorrow you'll be able to pretend that everything is good again, and if you pretend it's good, it will be good. You got to stop telling yourself you feel like that. It's only because you tell yourself so. Turn it off and it'll be good. Now sleep. Hush babe, please stop crying.

Shhhh… Hush… Sleep… It's good for you.

xXx

Demyx woke up with a jerk the next morning when his alarm clock went off. Stumbling, he headed over to his desk where the device was screaming and stopped the hideous sounds. 4 am, the same time every morning. Sleepily he padded into the living room and turned on the computer before heading to the bathroom. The floor was cold against his bare feet, the chill night air in the house so different from the warmth of his sheets.

On the way back he went by his bedroom to grab his bedcover and then curled up on the couch in the living room, wrapped up in the cover and went through his messenger list to find Axel. He was far from a morning person but this was his only way of getting some sort of twisted human contact where he dared to be himself. For two hours at least. It's something. But he always had to pause in the middle to shower and get dressed.

And showering was something he loathed. It was too many mirrors on the way there. Too many places where he could see himself, his face, his naked body in the bathroom. And to stand under the running water, having to wash himself, run his hands over all the uneven skin and soft spots made him want to throw up. Quickly the blond teen washed up and hurried out of the bathroom, towel around his waist, gaze set firmly forward so he wouldn't see any reflections. Just as quickly he threw his clothes on and it was better. At least that was what Demyx told himself. It was always easier that way.

Once the clock turned to 6:30 am he had to be out of the house. Against his will he turned the computer off, packed it in his schoolbag and ran down the street to catch the local bus that went to the central part of town. The snow crunched beneath his Converse that were wet and covered in snow when he reached the bus stop. Just as he reached the spot he saw the bus come down the small hill. He fished his wallet from his bag and got out his bus card and got on the bus. As usual it was rather empty. Every Tuesday a cute guy got on the bus by the local small hospital that really wasn't a hospital.

When the bus reached town he went over to the next bus stop, music playing loudly in his ears from his silver iPod and he switched to another song before lightning up a cigarette. It took about ten minutes until the next bus left and it was cold and lonely. Sometimes one of his friends stood here and they talked until the bus came. This day, she wasn't there. He crushed the cigarette beneath his shoe and two minutes later the bus showed up. His breath created a white puff of smoke in the air as he walked into the bus. Every other Tuesday he also got to sit next to a cute guy he knew that was a friend of a friend in his drama group. Every Thursday as well. Not today though.

Demyx sat down next to another friend of a friend from the freshman class with a sigh.

"Hey." The girl nodded and they exchanged a few words before he plugged his iPod back in and closed his eyes to get some sleep.

About an hour later they reached the school and the bus was soon emptied. The blond walked the few meters to the school, went in and walked to his locker that he quickly unlocked. When they had gotten back this summer, a lot of his friends had forgot the combination to their lockers but he had remembered his. He got rid of his jacket but kept the iPod and looked around, talking to his friends from the freshman year. He joked with them, talked and laughed with them, but he really didn't feel anything. It was all just a screen, a mask. Keep it up; see if anyone cares to break it down.

They usually didn't. They all thought it was for real.

The first half of the day passed without anything special happening. Math where he did nothing, he hated it. And the teacher hated him. History where he sat in the classroom, laptop in front of him and a bunch of papers and a highlighter marker, marking the things that might be important for his report.

Then it was lunch. He sat with the people from his class, his friends, like always. Ate in silence, not joining their conversations, focusing on the food, hating to eat. It only made it all worse. They all finished around the same time, all too used into the routines. A girl looked up.

"Smoke anyone?" Demyx nodded and rose.

"yeah. Let's go." Another girl looked at him.

"When are you gonna stop smoking, Demyx?" He hid his wince. This was what he always heard. When are you going to stop smoking? Quit smoking Demyx. Smoking is disgusting, You are disgusting. They never said it out loud, but it was obvious by their words. To him at least.

He quickly left the diner, putting his plate and glass away and hurried to his locker, steps quick through the corridor, rubber soles hitting against the stone floors. By habit he opened the locker, grabbed his jacket and went out on the back, taking a cigarette from the pocket of said jacket and lit it up. They hadn't wanted him to join them anyway. It was obvious. And he didn't really feel like being there. The only thing they did was asking why he never kept his cigarettes with him, but in his jack pocket. It would go so much faster if he kept them on him. But he didn't want that. He preferred to have them in his jacket, because then he would have a reason to get it and didn't have to freeze his ass off. He wasn't like them, always running around with his bag and jacket. He never liked that.

He leaned against the wall and sighed, releasing a lungful of grey smoke into all the white. This didn't matter, he could take all the time he needed because they had a two hour long lunch break today and he had no one to hang out with, so when he was done he was just going to go inside again, turn on his laptop and read or something.

That's right. You are alone. They don't want to hang out with you. Sit there with your laptop, because you're not making it better. Maybe someone that isn't music major will sit next to you, only because they feel obligated since you're in their class but you won't talk to each other. You don't have anything to say to one another. There's nothing that you have in common. Maybe you will change a polite word or two, ask what they're up to until class start. What are you going to do this weekend? How are you? What's up? You will just answer politely, like always, answers no where near the truth. Because that's the way it is here. If you don't really know each other, you don't talk. You stay the fuck away.

Nothing will ever change, because this is the way it is. Live with it or live with it. Those are the options and don't you dare try something else. They don't really care so just pretend everything is fine. I only want what's best for you Demyx. We both know I say these things to make it easier. No reason to tell yourself false things. It'll only cause un-necessary pain and hurt. And that is something you've had enough of. I don't say it because I love you, 'cause I don't. Neither do you. I say it to make it easier.

"I know… When will all of this stop?" It probably won't. You feel wrong. Like you don't fit in. You may know a lot of persons, a lot of them you could probably call friends. But that's not it. You attention whore. Nothing is ever enough for you. You say you want them to care, but when they try you just close up even more.

"I… I just wanna see if they think that it's worth it. If they try to break the tougher walls down." They rarely do, I know. But then again, you've tried to let it down, break down and let it out. After a while they just change the subject or leave. Isn't that proof enough for you? They really don't want to hear it. When are you going to realize that? No one wants to see you sad.

You know they're out there. The person you know you will meet one day. That doesn't hate you, nor want you anything but shudders by the mere sight of you and is terrified by the thought of touching you.

You don't even know who you are anymore. But then again; did you ever? You always stood a few feet away from the rest, trying to figure out why. Forget it. You'll never fit in. They will never want to have anything to do with you. You'll never be cool enough, smart enough. Good enough to be allowed to hang with them so don't even try. You might be able to maybe be allowed to hang around them. Pretend you're on of the gang, but you'll never truly be one of them. They'll always look at you with a bit of disgust and a look that's asking what the fuck is wrong with you? Stop fooling around Demyx. You will never be one of them. Just let them go.

Go home, like you always do, go to sleep early, as always. Get up at 4, like always and get two hours of the nearest thing of human contact you'll ever get before everything starts over. Don't ever think you're worth anything. Because you're not. And don't think things will change, because they won't. It'll just start over and everything will repeat. Work on the mask and try to keep it up, if it crumbles; go hide. Just never ever let it down. Nobody will ever want to see it. No one will ever love you. Get used to it; because that's the way it's going to be. Don't ever try to tell yourself anything else. It will only hurt and cause un-necessary pain. I say it because I care. Keep it up and no one will have to see and be disgusted. No one will say anything. If someone says anything mean, just laugh along, and don't show that it hurt. Because that is the way that everyone wants it to be.

Allright, thanks for reading it and please leave a review an tell me what you think of it :3 sobe sure to press that HUGE review button, kay? 3

-Ems